Out of Reach
by Goddess-Isis-112
Summary: A life-death situation awakens and reawakens unbidden feelings, but only the manipulation of Time could bring them together. *WIP*


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Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling. All characters and places and such belong to her, but as I am addicted to WIKTT, if I do use anything that happens to be of someone else's creation, please let me know! I spend a numerous amount of time reading the superb fics of WIKTT, so if anything familiar unintentionally finds its way into my story, notify me so that I may give credit to the respective owners.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry, I know I have another SS/HG fic to finish, but I had to put this one up. Post-Voldemort, and a little darker than my other SS/HG fic. Few clichés here and there, but sometimes, they're hard to avoid (and fun to write)! I must give credit to VenusDeMilo for "Lost" and Witch Lisa for "Crimson and Gold," both of which inspired my pregnant mind to give birth to this fic. Loads of fluffy goodness to come!

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Out of Reach

By: Goddess-Isis-112

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Chapter One: Irrational Thoughts

Sensible.

If there was only one word to describe Hermione Granger, it would be sensible. At least, that was what she thought herself to be, but as her seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry waned, she realized she was completely and utterly out of control, at least in her thoughts. Not for the first time, she found herself mesmerized by the long, deft fingers of the austere Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape, as he tapped them together in steeples as he stalked between the rows of brewing caldrons, his black robes billowing around him in dark waves. His obvious infuriation was written clearly across his face, and if rumor were true, it must have been the fifth year Hufflepuffs to have put him in such a foul disposition with five explosions of a simple Acne Reduction Potion. The seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins were wise enough by now to know when not to anger a highly aggravated Professor Snape.

It was Hermione's last and final year at Hogwarts and a very quiet one at that, now that the dreaded Lord Voldemort had finally been defeated at the hands of none other than the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, and the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Hermione had been there at the Final Battle in the Hogwarts Quidditch field, using her own superbly brilliant wits to cast hexes here and there, with only one thing in mind, and that was to keep herself alive. Though the Death Eaters had battled long and hard, they were of no match against the contingent of Aurors, Hogwarts Professors and students that had fought to keep Voldemort from breeching the castle itself, and in the end, the Dark Lord suffered and fell, his bloody corpse lifeless with his heartless soul trapped in, out of all things, Neville's Remembrall, which Harry had conveniently enough picked up somewhere among the grass. It had been the Headmaster who had cast the last spell to encapsulate the monster in the sphere, and it had been Dumbledore who hid and warded the gadget away in the deepest, most surreptitious chamber of Hogwarts.

It was just before that fateful event, however, that changed Hermione's life. She had been tired from hours of planning and battling, and she was on the verge of defeat at the foot of a masked Lucius Malfoy before a stern voice called out from behind her, casting the killing curse on Malfoy before he had the chance to direct another Cruciatus. Gravity had then claimed her, but instead of the cold, muddy grass she had expected to embrace her fall, two surprisingly strong arms had found their way around her, gently settling her against a sturdy chest. She had found the sensation to be strangely familiar and comforting, and more importantly, she found herself never wanting to leave the safe harbor the arms provided her with.

"Miss Grang-" the silky voice had inquired with a hint of worry, but when Hermione's eyes began to close, he cut himself off and whispered urgently, "No! _Hermione…!_" Despite her critical situation, she had felt herself tingle to her very bones at the sound of her name murmured with such…_passion_, but who was this stranger holding her so gently in his arms? She had enough strength to keep her brown eyes open for a brief second as they met the ebony black of Snape's before she had lost consciousness and crumpled against him, only to find herself in the infirmary a week later. 

However, when she came to, the image of him immediately surged through her brain, and she had looked wildly around the darkened infirmary for him before reality sunk in. He had saved her from a lifetime of inflicted insanity and possible death. She owed him _so_ much… 

Her cheeks had flushed as she remembered his embrace, recalling a safety she had never felt before then. It had been that moment, that vulnerability in his eyes with her name on his lips, that had haunted her ever since, and she had wept then as she sat alone on her bed, longing for that feeling once more, when Madame Pomfrey had returned, immediately taking the girl in her arms to comfort her.

She sighed and stared blankly at the root of asphodel she was to cut into tiny, perfect squares to be added to the Invisibility Potion in three minutes, but she absently pushed the item aside to Neville. His first reaction was to protest, but noticing that her eyes were as unfocused as they were, he nervously took it away from her, clumsily cutting it to the best of his ability.

Hermione gulped and looked away from him, somewhat ashamed of her thoughts. She couldn't function; she had tried long and hard to convince herself it was nothing. What she was feeling was merely gratitude at his saving her life. That, after all, was no small favor; she had to do something to thank him for that. If he hadn't been there…she shuddered at the thought of all the morbid possibilities of her fate, and she shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts. It was of no use to dwell on such things now.

She found herself watching Snape again as he scowled over the shoulders of her fellow Gryffindors, and wondered for the millionth time what it was she found so…captivating about him. He was by no means incredibly handsome; his teeth were as yellow as ever and his hair was lank and hung about his face, completely flat and lifeless. His nose was an enormous crooked hook of a thing in the center of his face, and his lips seemed to be in a permanent sneer every time she glanced at him, but then, like always, she studied his eyes, and found herself awestruck. His eyes were intensely dark and held restricted mysteries behind them, challenging all to dare try to discover what it was he was hiding within the confines of his soul, and it was no secret that Hermione Granger was not one to turn back from a challenge. It were always his eyes that got to her, and it were always those eyes…

That were now glaring at her in annoyance.

"Is there something particularly interesting you wish to enlighten the class with, Miss Granger?" he asked in a low voice as he stopped in front of her caldron. "Is whatever it is that holds you captive so interesting in fact that you deem it more worth your attention than potion-making?" She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words to defend herself, and she looked into his eyes, realizing her mistake a second too late as she now found herself drowning in their dark abyss. Snape drew himself to his full height and crossed his arms, fully irritated at her audacity to openly stare at him in front of his class without an answer. "That will be ten points, Miss Granger, for daydreaming in my classroom, _another _ten points for not answering me, and yet another ten points for wasting my time!" he hissed, spitting his words out like fire. "That does not include the possible points you may lose tonight in detention!"

"Bu-but, sir-" Neville stammered next to her, and Snape snapped his eyes to the quivering boy.

"Five points for interrupting, Mr. Longbottom!" Snape growled, and the shaking Gryffindor lowered his head, trembling. Snape returned his attention to Hermione, sneering at her with narrowed eyes. "I'll be expecting you precisely at six, Miss Granger, and not a second late, or Gryffindor will suffer another loss of points for your lack of punctuality." With that, he looked across the rest of the classroom of Gryffindors and Slytherins, the former with faces of anger, while the latter desperately trying not to burst out into giggles. "Bottle your potions and get out!" he snarled, whipping around so fast to his desk that his students saw nothing more than a splash of black sweeping across the room as they hurried out of the dungeons.

By the time he had reached his desk, the room had emptied, though there, by the doorway was a slim figure that stared up at him with her cinnamon brown eyes before ducking away out of his sight. He cursed under his breath before reaching for his wand, and with the flick of his wrist, the door slammed shut with a loud bang. His seventh year class with the Gryffindors and Slytherins was his last class of the day, and he sighed with relief, though the pounding of his head left him tired and weary. He shut his eyes, but the image of Hermione Granger remained, and he closed his eyes ever tighter, willing for her vision to disappear, but it was no use.

His senses were excellent; he knew when he was the subject of scrutiny. What was it that Hermione Granger found particularly interesting about him? It did not help the situation any, especially when past memories began to swim into his thoughts. _Is this how it began?_ he pondered.

"She's a student now," he hissed to himself, one hand moving to massage a temple, but his mind flashed back to the night of the Final Battle, of the way she had been nearly driven mad through Cruciatus, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy. When he had caught her in his arms, a maddening rush of sensations flowed from his arms throughout his entire body, and the moment her eyes looked up into his in her trusting Gryffindor-like manner, something inside of him sparked with a warmth he hadn't felt since the last time...

"Gods, what's wrong with me?" he questioned to no one in particular. "It's over. It's been over. It won't happen again." He sighed again and shook his head at his thoughts as he reached for his bottle of red ink and a quill, and with a look of disgust, he stretched out a hand to the pile of third-year essays.

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"That greasy bastard," Ron Weasley tried to spit out, though was unsuccessful as his mouth was full of food, and Harry Potter cocked his head to one side in quiet contemplation as he studied his other best friend, Hermione, who bristled at Ron's words.

"Calling him names won't change the fact that I've got detention, and rightfully so," she answered in irritation. "I _was _daydreaming in his class after all…sort of."

"But _you_ don't do those kinds of things, 'Mione," Ron replied after swallowing. He paused a moment to study her, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he picked up a drumstick and chewed on it as he watched her.

"Ron's right you know," Harry agreed. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?" Hermione forced a smile onto her face.

"I'm perfectly well," she insisted, though her voice sounded false even to her own ears. "Now stop worrying about me. It isn't as if I haven't served detention with Snape before. Being best friends with the both of you has guaranteed at least that much." Harry gave a sheepish smile, and although turned his attention to his plate, he seemed less than satisfied with her answer, and Ron shrugged in resignation, poking at the vegetables on his plate.

Hermione turned her eyes to the Head Table, her eyes immediately landing on Snape at his spot by the end of the table. He was sniffing disdainfully at a spoonful of soup before engulfing the rounded curve into his mouth, sipping the warm liquid, and Hermione felt her cheeks grow red at her slight jealousy of a spoon. She sighed, hearing his voice repeat itself over and over in her mind as he called her name in the darkness of that terrible night.

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"No! Hermione…!

Tearing her eyes away from him, she allowed herself a few deep breaths before she focused her eyes on a biscuit on her plate. Taking a bite out of it, she tried to concentrate on the crumbling texture of sugar and softness in her mouth, and swallowing, she allowed her gaze to drift back to the Head Table. To her utter dismay, Snape was already gone, and with a gnawing pain growing in her tummy, she looked down at the watch around her wrist and gasped. She had a little less than seven minutes to run down to the dungeons to report for detention, and with a quick wave good-bye to her two best friends, Hermione fled the Great Hall in a hurry, the patter of her shoes echoing through the nearly empty corridors. 

After battling with a capricious staircase that couldn't decide which way to connect to and running into an attacking Peeves who wanted nothing more than to stick olives in her bushy mane, Hermione arrived at the dungeons, panting and out of breath with barely enough energy to knock on the door and three seconds to spare before six.

"Come in!" His voice snapped through the door like a whip, and steadying her breath, Hermione tentatively walked into the classroom, quietly shutting the door behind her with a soft click. Her eyes immediately spotted him seated at his desk, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. She felt uncomfortable under his gaze, and she shifted on her feet, waiting for him to speak. She didn't have to wait long. "To the storeroom, Miss Granger," he barked. "Follow me." He rose from his desk, and she followed him to the corner of the classroom where the ingredients for students were kept. Shelves upon shelves of jars vied for her attention, but she turned to Snape for instruction. "I want a complete list of all the ingredients in alphabetical order, as well as a tab of how much of each is left."

"Yes, Professor," she answered obediently, and his face flinched ever so slightly at his title, though it was gone so quickly, she was sure she had imagined it. She set to work immediately as he turned and stalked to his desk to complete his marking of essays.

He could not take it. He had tried to ignore her presence completely, or at least get passed half of the stack of papers before him, but he was barely past the second essay since her arrival before he found his eyes demanding to follow her every move. From his desk, he could see her perfectly as the storeroom door was wide open, and he felt his mouth go a little dry at the sight of her. 

It had been _so_ long ago…

She had discarded her heavy robes and was wearing only her school uniform. He noticed the way her skirt clung slightly to the curves of her posterior as her back was to him, and Severus clenched his quill tightly before snapping his gaze back down to the top of his desk, clamping his jaw shut in determination to get through the night without another thought of Hermione Granger. _It's damned difficult, especially now that she looks exactly the way she used to,_ he thought to himself. _Mustn't think of such things, Severus. It will do the both of you no good._

The student in question was definitely not having an easier time. The room had gotten unbearably hot at the thought of being alone with him that she had shrugged her robes off, unable to cool herself down in any other way. Her mind had gone blank as she stared at the shelves, thinking of nothing more than the delicious man sitting just several yards away. Her back was to him but she became acutely aware of the hairs raising on the back of her neck; his gaze was on her, she was sure. _Gods, if only I could stride out there and snog him senseless,_ she thought wistfully, and sighing in resignation, she turned her attention back to her task at hand. Steadying herself on a stool, Hermione reached up to the topmost shelf, her hand curving around a bottle of powered root of asphodel.

"Miss Granger."

Surprised, she started at the sound of the voice, losing her balance on the stool, and felt herself falling. An unnatural half-gasp, half-scream erupted from her lungs as she instinctively braced herself for the inevitable crash to the cold dungeon floor. A sickening crack of a bone breaking reached her ears milliseconds before an electric pain shot up through her left arm, and she whimpered on the floor, tears blurring her eyes. Snape immediately was at her side, a sneer on his face.

"This won't do one bit," he snapped, his eyes glaring angrily at her as if it were all her fault.

"If you hadn't snuck up on me, this wouldn't have happened!" she found herself replying back with a sneer of her own as she hissed through her pain. Snape snapped back as if she had slapped him and pressed his lips tightly to a white line.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Miss Granger," he whispered with cold threat. "It might help if you went to see Madame Pomfrey about that arm." She forced herself up into a sitting position, and unable to prevent her tears from falling, she glared angrily at the man who had occupied the majority of her thoughts for several weeks.

"Why are you so cold?" she asked quietly, her voice no less than venomous. "How can you sit there and not care-"

"_Ten points!_" Snape growled angrily, his voice raising. "Get yourself to the infirmary, foolish girl!" He stood and turned his back before Hermione shot out again.

"I don't understand!" she muttered. "You seemed so different when…" As if suddenly aware of her words, her jaw snapped shut as she struggled to her feet, wincing in pain.

"Do NOT speak to me in such an impudent manner," he hissed, his back still turned to her. "We'll move your detention to tomorrow night. Now get out. And five points for your clumsiness."

Snape felt her eyes on him as she looked up at him through her tears before she darted out of the dungeons, clutching her broken arm. He turned around in time to see a flash of her brown mane flying behind her as she fled, and he wanted nothing more than to call out to her, to rush to her, to hold her just one more time. He stalked to his desk, reaching for his wand, and with a few words, the doors to the classroom slammed shut with a resounding boom. He collapsed into his chair, burying his face into his hands.

"What has gotten into you?!" he demanded, berating himself. He had given in to his urge to speak with her, to say _something_ to her, but it all ended with his being alone in his classroom and with her in the infirmary. _This is why you stay away from such things,_ he silently reminded himself. _You end up destroying whatever you get close to. What's in the past stays there._

He sighed heavily, trying to control his breathing, but images of Hermione teased his tortured mind and he gritted his teeth in frustration. "I miss you, Hermione." He could feel the tears swelling beneath his eyelids as he fought to gain control over his emotions when there was an urgent rapping on the door. Snape immediately composed himself, briskly brushing the back of his hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the evident dampness there.

"Severus." The Headmaster's voice sounded muffled behind the heavy door, and when Snape allowed him entrance to his classroom, he saw a tiny object in the Headmaster's hand. His gaze snapped back to Dumbledore's face, only to be greeted with a weary expression. Snape tilted his head slightly in disbelief, though there was no use in denying that the Headmaster held Hermione's Time-Turner, now broken, in his hand. 

"I found this just before the staircase, Severus, along with several olives."

"Olives, sir?"

"Peeves had been attacking several students today with olives. He might have caught Hermione off guard, causing her to slip off the staircase-"

"She's gone back, then, hasn't she, Headmaster?" Snape's hands were tightly balled into shaking fists at his sides.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Yes."

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TBC…

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